


Cause and Effect

by kestrelsan



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-07
Updated: 2010-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:11:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kestrelsan/pseuds/kestrelsan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanada and Kirihara don't flirt like other people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cause and Effect

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [top_cagnotte](http://community.livejournal.com/top_cagnotte/) challenge. Much love to prillalar for beta.

"You kick like a slug," Aoki said, when Kirihara missed the goal on a one-on-one in gym class, so Kirihara knocked him down and kicked his leg, and by the way Aoki yelped it was nothing like a slug.

"Kirihara-kun!" said Yoshida-sensei, which meant extra cleaning duty and another day late to practice.

"Nice," Marui said, when Kirihara snuck onto the court. "Are you ever going to get here on time?"

"Akaya!" Sanada called out, and Kirihara winced. "Thirty laps."

Thirty laps was generous, but Kirihara still spent the time thinking about facing Sanada on the court, Sanada on his knees after a devastating six-love defeat, cries of _you're number one_ in the background and none of them for Sanada.

Jackal waved him over when he was done. "Hit some balls with me. I want to try something."

Kirihara fed him balls while Jackal ran around the court. It made him dizzy. "I'm playing seriously now," Kirihara said, and served three aces in a row while Jackal rolled his eyes, then Kirihara saw Sanada at the next court, watching them. He double faulted the next serve.

"Next time, kid," Jackal said.

Pooled together, they had enough money for one game when Marui and Jackal dragged him into the arcade after he'd missed the five-fifteen. "Niou was dropping something off for Yagyuu at lunch," Marui said to Jackal, while Kirihara swerved down the mountain pass on his turn. "And he said a _girl_ gave _Sanada_ a _love letter_."

Kirihara crashed into the cliff.

"Was it actually meant for Sanada?" Jackal asked.

"Dunno," Marui said. "Niou said Sanada got all red. I mean, it seems unlikely. But still."

"What did he do with it?" Kirihara said. Jackal and Marui exchanged looks over his head.

"Don't worry, Akaya," Marui said. "You're still his number one stalker."

"I'm not a stalker!" The game started up again, and Kirihara shifted to the highest gear, squealing around the bend.

"It's not your turn anymore," Marui said, smacking the back of his head before he could duck.

His mom had left him takeout curry for dinner, so Kirihara took it up to his room in front of the TV, but it was all the same boring shows so he pulled out the latest issue of _Monthly Pro Tennis_. There was a big spread in the middle about Nationals and a team picture of Seigaku. He tore it out and made the wastebasket on the first try.

His phone went off. It was Marui, so he ignored it. It went off again. Jackal.

"What," Kirihara said, retrieving the balled-up picture to shoot it again.

"Niou said he just threw it away."

Kirihara missed the wastebasket. The picture rolled under his bed. "Threw what away?" he said, and Jackal sighed.

"Don't be late again tomorrow."

****

Kirihara didn't mean to be late, but Aoki slide-tackled him in gym class to get back for the kick, so Kirihara knocked him down again and pushed his face in the dirt. By the time Yoshida-sensei pulled them apart, Kirihara had a fistful of Aoki's hair and a black eye.

"Ow," Kirihara said, when the nurse pressed an ice pack to his eye.

Yoshida-sensei made him clean out the gym locker room. When he finished it was already thirty minutes into practice, and Kirihara stopped calculating all the laps Sanada was going to make him run because it was probably a number that hadn't been invented yet.

Except when he got to the courts, there was no one there but Jackal, and he wasn't even in his tennis clothes.

"Idiot," Jackal said, but he was grinning. "No afternoon practice today. We have a team meeting at Sanada's in an hour. What happened to your eye?"

Kirihara touched his eye. It was still sore. "Nothing. Why are we meeting?"

"Beats me," Jackal said.

Marui, Yagyuu, and Niou were waiting for them at the station. "What happened to you?" Marui said, and Niou jumped down from the side railing to get a better look.

"Sweet," Niou said. "Did you fall down the stairs?"

"Yep," Kirihara said, and Niou grinned.

It was a twenty-minute train ride to Sanada's house, plus another ten minutes on the bus. And then a five minute walk up a ridiculously windy road. Sanada's house was like a maze, and Sanada's room like a museum Kirihara remembered from elementary school. There was a sword. And a bunch of dolls of men in skirts with more swords everywhere in the room, and Kirihara couldn't believe even Sanada was this much of a geek.

"What, no Gundams?" Niou said, and Sanada's cheeks turned pink.

Sanada, Yukimura, and Yanagi were camped out on Sanada's futon. Niou was still perusing Sanada's model dolls. Yagyuu and Jackal were leaning against Sanada's desk, and before Kirihara could grab it, Marui slipped into Sanada's desk chair.

"Why do I have to sit on the floor?" Kirihara said.

"Because you're the baby," Marui said. His gum popped annoyingly.

"I'm sick of being the baby," Kirihara said. Next year he wouldn't be. Next year he'd be number one and every other team would know it. They'd change the rules to let him play all the singles matches and he wouldn't even need a team.

"Akaya." Jackal nudged him with his foot.

"What?" Kirihara said, but it was Yukimura-buchou who smiled across the room at him.

"All of us have been selected to join the under-seventeen training camp," Yukimura said. Kirihara's stomach did a flop, then settled down. Not that he had actually worried.

Sanada, of course, was the only one not smiling. "I've put together a new training regimen to prepare for it," he said. "Practice in the gym at seven, weight room after, then afternoon practice at the courts as usual."

"Since when are you buchou," Kirihara muttered, too low for Sanada to possibly hear, except of course he did.

"Fifty laps around the house," Sanada said, and Marui's eyes bugged out.

"Are you kidding me?" Kirihara said, but Sanada's lips didn't even twitch.

"Sanada," Yukimura said, but Kirihara didn't wait to hear what he had to say. At least running laps he wouldn't have to sit on the floor. Or listen to everything they were going to have to do for the next three weeks.

Sanada's house was as long and confusing on the outside as it was inside. Jackal told him once that Sanada's family had a dojo, which Kirihara guessed was the long rectangle he jogged around first. It ended in a clump of bushes that he tried to jump but ended up tripping over, and then he was in a big garden like the ones in Kamakura, and Kirihara didn't think he could even get back to the house from here.

He followed what he thought was the edge of the garden, then nearly tripped again over an old man crouched next to a pile of rocks.

"Jeez!" Kirihara said, catching himself on a bush that scratched his arm and almost dumped him on the ground.

The old man laughed.

Kirihara backed away. Probably Sanada's crazy uncle they kept locked away—no way was he going near that. The old man stopped laughing and narrowed his eyes, and Kirihara jumped. He knew that look.

"Come here," the old man said. He didn't want to, but Kirihara took a step forward. "Here," the old man said, pointing to the ground. Kirihara crouched down. "You can sort these rocks for me. I want separate piles for brown, white, and grey."

"What?" Kirihara said.

The old man jumped up, pretty nimble for a crazy uncle. "I expect it to be completed when I return."

Kirihara still had forty-nine laps to run. "Fuck," he said, looking at the pile of rocks. There had to be hundreds of them. Thousands. They were all a mottled grey-brown. "Fuck!"

He had three piles that were sort of separated by color by the time the old man returned, except that it wasn't the old man, it was Sanada.

"What are you doing?"

"Huh?" Kirihara said, then remembered he'd never finished the laps. "Some old man told me to sort these rocks."

Sanada stared at him. The side of his face twitched. Probably a fly had landed on his face.

"Everyone else is eating. They thought you'd already gone."

"Seriously?" Kirihara said. If he saw that old man again he was going to pop him.

"Come on," Sanada said, and Kirihara followed him through the confusing garden to some side door leading into the house.

The rest of the team was in the tatami room around a long table filled with food. Marui scooted down for him, and it was like a party. Everyone was happy for once. Even Sanada looked relaxed. Yukimura said something that made Sanada snort—not quite a laugh, but not his usual glare, either.

Marui elbowed him. "Were you really running laps?"

"Yes," Kirihara said.

Marui shook his head. "You're a crazy kid," he said, and Kirihara puffed out his chest a little.

Sanada walked down with them to the bus stop. Kirihara was warm all over from the food and a little lightheaded, the kind of giddiness he felt on the court sometimes, right before smashing his way through match point.

Sanada looked over at him, like he knew what Kirihara was feeling. Kirihara's stomach flipped weirdly. A tingle ran over his skin. He hugged his arms to his chest.

Jackal nudged him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Kirihara said.

****

Seven was early to be swinging at balls in the gym, especially when Sanada turned the machine up faster and faster. "Concentrate!" Sanada yelled. Kirihara's body wanted to be sleeping and his arm wanted to be doing anything except swinging at a ball that felt like a hundred-pound weight, but he hit the same spot over and over and imagined it was Sanada's face.

"Adequate," was all Sanada said, so Kirihara pounded a few more balls against the practice wall.

Kirihara snuck out at lunch instead of meeting up with the others. He liked to sit on the square wall on the side of the main classroom building that surrounded a garden of sorts. It was usually deserted, only this time someone was standing next to the maple tree reading a crumpled up piece of paper with purple kanji like it was in a foreign language.

Sanada looked up. The perplexed look disappeared.

Kirihara glared back. This was his spot, not for Sanada to read his love letters in. He sat down on the wall and got out his bento. Onigiri, fish, and bean sprouts. He hated bean sprouts. Sanada's hand closed around the paper and stuffed it in his pocket.

Kirihara bit his lip. He wanted to do—something. He didn't know what. Rip up that stupid note. Niou said Sanada had thrown it away, the liar. Or maybe it was a new one.

Sanada sat on the wall a few feet away. "I don't understand girls."

Kirihara choked on his rice. "Uh," he said, because the only girls he knew were the ones in his class who yelled when he pulled their hair and told the teacher. And his sister, who was old and didn't count.

"Hey, Akaya." Marui crowded in next to him on the wall, peering into Kirihara's bento. "Anything good?"

Kirihara pushed back, and Marui swiped his onigiri. Kirihara waited for Sanada to tell them off, but when he looked over, Sanada was gone.

He was late again for practice, this time for falling asleep in English class. His teacher made him rewrite the lesson three times. Kirihara scrawled words over and over until his teacher sighed and told him to go.

When he got to the courts, though, no one was practicing. They were all watching Sanada and Yukimura play.

Kirihara didn't know how many games they were into the match, but they were both sweating. Sanada served to a spot impossible to reach except somehow Yukimura returned it. Back and forth. The ball was a blur. Yukimura took the game, then the next. It was starting to piss Kirihara off.

"Whatever," he said, loud enough for the others to hear. "I'm going to practice."

He ended up hitting balls against the practice wall, focusing on the bounce of the ball, hitting the right spot, over and over. He swung harder to drown out the sounds of the game on the other court.

Yanagi intercepted his next ball, and Kirihara swung on empty air. "Come on," Yanagi said. "I'll play a match with you."

Sanada and Yukimura stood together at the side of the net. "I'd beat you if you played that way against me," Kirihara said to Sanada, when he passed him. "I'd beat you both."

Yukimura laughed and ruffled his hair before Kirihara could dodge him. Sanada didn't say anything.

Yanagi gave him the serve, and Kirihara took the first game. He glanced over to see if Sanada was watching, but he and Yukimura were still talking. He hit the next ball out, and it was Yanagi's game. Yanagi served, cool and composed. Kirihara smashed the ball back.

He lost the match, six games to two.

"Tough luck," Marui said, bumping his shoulder on their way to the station.

Kirihara muttered, "I have to get home," and ran ahead.

At home, his mom looked up from cooking dinner and said something that Kirihara pretended not to hear. He still had homework to finish. It was all bright squiggly lines like in his nightmares about English class, and half the math problems were wrong. He'd ask Jackal to help him after practice.

He turned on the TV. Some sappy movie that made him think of purple kanji. What did someone write in a love letter, anyway? What girl would actually like Sanada enough to do it?

He tore a piece of paper from his notebook and stared down at it. All Sanada cared about was tennis. Tennis and Rikkai. Kirihara crumpled up the paper and threw it in the corner. Thinking about love letters made him feel weird. Weird and flushed, and his hand brushed down his stomach, rubbed over the front of his pants.

"Akaya!" Kirihara nearly fell off the bed. His heart was a booming drum in his chest. "Dinner!"

Kirihara waited until his breath had returned to normal before going downstairs. His mom gave him a puzzled look when he slunk into his chair.

Stupid Sanada.

****

Marui was supposed to meet him downtown, but he called just as Kirihara was leaving. "My parents are going out," he said. "I have to babysit."

"Loser," Kirihara said, and heard the pop of Marui's gum.

He went anyway. He needed power strips for his racquet. The tennis store was empty except for a couple of older kids in the corner checking out the new Aeropro racquet, and Kirihara crouched down and picked through ball clips and dry grip stacked on the center aisle, because he couldn't remember where they kept the power strips.

"Did the new _Tennis_ come in?" he heard, over by the register.

Kirihara stood up quickly. Sanada's eyes flicked to him, and the store owner said he'd look in the back. Kirihara felt his face turn red. He thought about last night and ducked his head, backing up, even though Sanada couldn't possibly know, unless it was written all over Kirihara's face.

He bumped into a hard bony shoulder. "Hey!" the owner of the shoulder said, and Kirihara bounced sideways into a shelf. Rolls of grip tape fell down.

"Stupid kid," he heard. It was one the older kids. The kid pushed Kirihara in the shoulder and his back hit the shelf again. "Watch where you're going."

Kirihara's hand tightened in a fist. He'd never taken on a high school kid before, and there were two of them, but he'd already cocked back to swing when someone grabbed his wrist.

"Let's settle this on the tennis court," Sanada said.

The kid who'd pushed Kirihara laughed. "Who are you, his mother?" he said, and Kirihara's face burned.

"Come on, Keiji," the other kid said. His spiky hair was greasy with gel. "Leave him alone. They're just middle schoolers."

"He started it," Keiji said. Kirihara wanted to punch the smirk off his face, but Sanada still had a hold of his wrist. "And this one wants to get his ass kicked on the tennis court."

"Whatever," Spiky hair said. "We have to be at the movie theater in an hour."

"This won't take any longer than that," Keiji said, sizing them up. His shins were in kicking range. Kirihara thought about it, but then Sanada let go of his wrist and was halfway to the door.

Kirihara jogged to catch up with him. "Why did you do that?" he hissed. "I didn't ask you to interfere."

"Next time watch where you're going before you run into someone," Sanada said.

The court at the park was free. "You really want to go through with this?" Keiji said. "Last chance to back out."

Sanada tugged his hat down tighter on his head. Kirihara's heart thumped and his fingers tingled. He swung his racquet. They won the serve, and Kirihara bounced back to the service line. Sanada followed him, his back to the other court. "Give him the knuckle serve," Sanada said, and Kirihara felt his eyes go wide. Sanada added quickly, "Don't hit him."

"I wasn't going to hit him," Kirihara muttered, as Sanada took up position. Keiji was receiving. He had decent form but was only a foot behind the service box. Kirihara grinned when he threw the ball up.

Keiji jumped to the side as the ball whizzed past his face. Spiky hair straightened in shock. It was Kirihara's favorite part of a match, the moment when his opponent realized he was screwed.

Sanada didn't turn around, but the line of his back was relaxed when they switched sides. Kirihara sent over another serve. Two more and the first game was theirs.

"Don't lose focus," Sanada said, and Kirihara rolled his eyes. Ten minutes later, they were three more games up and Keiji was shooting daggers at them.

"Fucking kids," Keiji said. He walked off the court and threw his racquet back in his bag. "Come on, we don't have time for this."

"Quitter!" Kirihara yelled, because he was still hoping for a fight. And they hadn't finished the match. Stupid high school kids. Keiji looked like he was ready to go for it, but Spiky hair pulled him back and they stalked off the courts.

"What a waste," Sanada muttered.

"Let's play a match," Kirihara said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Sanada looked like he was going to refuse, but then he said, "All right."

Sanada won the serve and walked over to the far side. He had two aces before Kirihara returned one, the weight a shock on his arm but he thought about ball machines and morning weights, and somehow he kept it in court, though not out of Sanada's reach. Sanada sent it cross court, just inside the corner. The next one Kirihara returned again and Sanada had to stretch for it. This time Kirihara was ready with a smash, and Sanada's eyebrow went up, just a little.

When it was over, his legs buckled and he fell back on the court. He laughed. He'd taken three games. Sweat trickled down his face and over his lips, the ends of his hair dripping with it.

Sanada crouched down and offered an arm to pull him up, but Kirihara didn't think he could move.

"Let's get ramen," Kirihara said.

Sanada stared down at him. Kirihara was still lightheaded from the match. He squinted up at the too-bright sky. Sanada still wasn't saying anything, so Kirihara grabbed his arm and pulled him down until the brim of Sanada's hat bumped his forehead and he felt Sanada's lips under his, half-open and shocked.

"Um," Kirihara said, when Sanada pulled back. Maybe he could just melt into the court.

Sanada licked his lips where Kirihara had kissed him. He was bright red, but he didn't look mad. "Okay," he said finally. He held out his hand.

"Your treat," Kirihara said.

****

"So then the ugly one started to cry," Kirihara said, "and Sanada-fukubuchou told him never to show his face on the court again until he could finish what he'd started."

"Really?" Marui's eyes were wide. He and Jackal looked over at Sanada, on the far bench changing his shoes. Sanada snorted, grabbed his racquet bag, and left the clubhouse.

"Well, it was something like that," Kirihara said.

He caught up with Sanada on the way to the station. "My grandfather's looking forward to meeting you again," Sanada said. "He says you show promise."

Kirihara shuddered. "Maybe I can't come over after all."

The corner of Sanada's mouth quirked. Kirihara tripped on the sidewalk, and Sanada grabbed his wrist, steadying him, and for a moment Sanada's hand closed over his before he pulled it away to tug his hat down, cheeks red. Kirihara grinned.

They almost ran into Yagyuu, standing under one of the trees by the school wall, looking down at a piece of paper written in purple kanji with a puzzled expression.

He looked up. His eyes narrowed. "Sanada," he said, holding the note out reproachfully.

Sanada grabbed Kirihara's hand. "Come on," he said, and they ran down to the station.


End file.
